The Thirteenth Hunger Games
by Rainbowgazer
Summary: Two best friends are going into the arena together, this is the tale from the perspective of the younger of the two as he deals with the fact that he is more than likely going to die and tries to come to terms with the fact that living means that the person he's closest to will have died in his place. Set in the 13th Hunger Games, about the halfway point to the first quarter-quell.
1. Chapter 1

The Thirteenth Hunger Games

Chapter 1: The First

P.O.V- Paris

The ringing sound shatters my every thought; it feels as if my heartbeats are in sync with the tolling of the bell. Then one thought forms in my mind and, like a running bull, it stampedes on any happy thoughts that my mind can give birth to. District elevenths thirteenth reaping is beginning.

Everyone who may be selected will go, regardless of who they are and the odds of their selection occurring. A few of the townspeople who consider themselves of a "higher-class" then the rest of us probably are exited at the prospect of seeing the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth sacrifices selected. I remember the mayors gleeful face as one of the kids he's had wiped for stealing food before was selected last year, he tried to hide it, but anybody could tell that he holds no love towards the poorer members of the district.

As I approach the center of town I run into one of the few people who I don't want to see enter the slaughter-house, besides myself of course, Slate. He's my polar opposite since, while I'm small and nimble, he's a giant wild boar that has at least thrice my strength. At six foot seven and at least two hundred fifty pounds he makes me feel like a child every time I compare myself to him, he's one of the few friends I have. What really made our friendship was our parents, but sad memories won't help me suffer through another reaping, so I stuff those memories into the casket at the back of my mind and try to temporarily stop thinking

We nod at each other, both of unwilling to speak because we both know that we don't want our last words to be bitter if one of us is reaped. The center of town isn't large enough to hold five thousand people, let alone the entire population of our large district, so most people won't get to see it live. The mayor is one of those fortunate enough to get a front row seat; I know he'll enjoy himself enough for the rest of us while he gets his screen time on stage in front of the entire capital, since I'm certain his strict policies are favored by our president.

Then the poisons snake herself appears, Aqua Tearju, one of the guides who has a 100% mortality rate for her tributes. She's one of the few who'll enjoy herself as well, knowing that she's famous for selecting a twelfth of the sacrifices and because she'll also enjoy her screen time, I'd bet she's famous at home and enjoys a life of luxury since. She stands on the stage with a smile on her face, looking into the crowd at the collection of potential sacrifices she has at her disposal. I wonder how she doesn't frown at the thought that she can only take a few of us and not the entire population.

Her most noticeable feature has to be the snake scale tattoo that encompasses all visible skin, except for from the top of her neck up. The scales look like they belong on one of the constricting snakes I've seen, it was around nine feet long, I made sure to keep my distance from it. I'll do the same thing towards her, since a snake that big could still kill with its poison if it bit you, even if it isn't large enough to strangle you.

"Ahem," clearing her throat isn't going to get anyone's attention, I have no idea why she even tried, nobody even looks at her until the head peacekeeper gets up and shots his gun into the sky. We all go quiet. The fact that he's an excellent marksman is something that many of us know all to well; he takes pleasure in being one of the gunmen in every execution we have. It's been about a month since the last time we've had an execution by the firing squad, so he probably would have someone executed today for not focusing all their attention on this event, one that's almost iconic in the eyes of the capital drones.

She continues, knowing that the gunshot will be edited out later, "Welcome to district elevens thirteenth reaping and may the honorable tributes fight with courage and steadfast determination," That's a new starting line, the last one also seemed forced, so they must be experimenting. Determination, honor and courage are things that sacrifices don't really need since all they really need is to die for the amusement of the capital drones that know of nothing except how pleasurable life can be for the spoiled.

"As always, we start with the ladies," sticking her fangs into the nest, she manages to snack a particularly well fed chick, "Abigail Fletcher," she cries out and for the first time the mayors smile disappears. His daughter looks at him with pleading eyes, but he just stares at her choking back his tears, I hope is moment in the spotlight is seen by everyone in the capital. She looks up to the stage and faints. Instinctively, as if she's some sort of diseased carcass, everybody takes a few steps away from her.

"Any volunteers" she asks in a voice that doesn't imply that this question is equivalent to asking the mayor for handout's, except for the fact that we can't wipe her for disturbing us. The only districts that have ever had volunteers are the first, second and fourth. Those are also the only districts that have had multiple victors, the second district having the most, the first having the second most and the fourth having the third most.

Then the meaning behind her first victims last name flashes into her head, she gives the mayor an apologetic look before speaking again, "Before we continue," she manages to get out, "I have an exciting announcement to make. In honor of our thirteenth hunger games, and the halfway point to the first quarter quell, we have decided to add a few little twists to this year's hunger games. Instead of each district sending out two tributes, a third of either gender will also be going out with them," the smile on her face makes the news seem almost pleasant, for those who live in the capital it probably is, but for the rest of us it means are chances of being selected are now about twenty-five percent higher than they were before.

"Anyways, let's continue by choosing the male tribute," In my mind, all the news means that the snake will take back three of our chicks instead of just two, while I think coldly about this the second name is called, and I can't help but notice that many of the other potential sacrifices are staring at me. "Was it me?" is the only thought that I can muster until he walks to the stage and I know she called out "Slate Washington" and that I'm receiving sympathetic glances from those that know that we out of all the people in the district he's the one of the few people who I get along with, the same goes for him as well though.

Why slate of all people? He has hungry mouths to feed at home, the reason why he has so many slips in is because he gets six a year in order to feed his younger siblings, since they're all orphans. He has amassed thirty-six entries, making him the most likely out of all of us, but even Mayor Fletcher's daughter got selected when she couldn't have had more than four or five entries.

"Any volunteers?" she asks again, which irritates me. Why does she have to ask the same thing twice every year? When it's between your live and someone else's you always put president on your own, even your best friend will silently stare at you as they take you away, with a look of sorrow or remorse and the very most.

My heart skips a beat at the thought of me volunteering for him, I could save replace him so he can take care of his siblings. I should save him, shouldn't I? I'm an orphan as well and he's the only one who would miss me, I have no hungry siblings to feed, nor do I have a stable source of income. We both watched the death of our parents, my father and both of his. But I can't save him. I look away out of sadness and because of how pitiful I truly am. He looks at me with a look of both understanding and sadness as well. We both know I could, but we both know I won't.

"Now for our very special third tribute," she combines the two bowls of names, sticks her venomous fangs out and for the first time I actually take a good look at her, those crimson red eyes, that happy smile. A smile that tells everyone that she enjoys her job, hell, she probably wouldn't give it up without being coerced into doing it and even that would take a lot of effort.

"Priscilla Washington," she calls out. Everybody else turns towards her, but I look right into Slates eyes and see that hearing her name was much more painful for him that hearing his own. She walks up slowly, unable to look her brother in the eyes, and takes her place on the stage, knowing that nobody will come to her rescue.

"Any volunteers," after not getting a response twenty-six times in a row she must know nobody will say yes, there's not a girl in the entire country who would take her place.

It hits me hard, harder than memories of my father, harder than the whipping I'd received for being my parent's child and harder than the sadness at knowing slate was a sacrifice. I could replace her, right? She said of either gender, so wouldn't having a second boy be fine, wouldn't saving her be something that I could do? Half my body is conscious, screaming at the other half to wake up, to release that I'll die if I take her place. But the unconscious half ignores the rest as I say in a flat, even and almost musical voice, "I volunteer."

Everybody looks at me questioningly, I would do the same if there was a mirror, I probably will when they replay the reaping's and I get to watch myself. I'll wonder who that brave kid is, not brave actually, who that idiotic kid is. The kid who gave up his life to save someone he doesn't even care for. I ascend the stairs almost unknowingly; most of my conscious is still living ten minutes age, before slate was selected, before his baby sister was selected, and before we became enemies destined to fight to the death. The only thing that registers is Slates quizzical look, one that questions what I'm thinking and whether or not I'm mentally stable enough to be punished for my own stupidity, but also has an edge of thankfulness to it. I take my place on the stage, while Priscilla walks down at a pace that makes me think she's afraid that they'll drag her up the stairs before she reaches the bottom

The snake eyes me with a confused expression at well, probably debating whether the first volunteer from a district that's not notorious for being successful makes for better television that having a sibling death match. In the end she leaves it alone, "What's your name?" she asks me pleasantly."

"Paris Grey," I manage to get out, a name my father so happily bestowed upon me in honor of a royal member of some country that existed before so longs ago that it plays no role in our current lives at all.

"Let's all give a warm round of applause to our first ever tribute from district eleven," she cries enthusiastically, but the minority of people that actually applaud me aren't those who make up our districts, since they're still shocked at my choice.

I notice that our districts princess has begun to awaken, probably thinking it had to have been a terrible dream, that in the morning she'll be able to parade through town with pockets full of coins and buy delicacies that she'll eat in front of the poor with a happy expression. That is until she looks at the crowd than towards her competition. I see her double take when she she's the giant tribute we've collected. But where will I place? Between the monster and the person who fainted, but those two range on the opposite sides of the spectrum.

Then the mayor stands up and reads the long and incredibly dull document about the acts of treason that none of the potential tributes were old enough to commit. After he finishes they usher us into separate rooms so that our loved ones will come to visit us; I see this as my best chance to take a nap before all the craziness unfolds. I lay on the fluffy coach, which is a step up from what I'm used to.

In front of me I see my father, and I remember this exact scene all too well. He was the only person who was allowed to enter the forest and collect herbs and other plants, since he was both a healer and a scholar who knew all about how abundant the forests natural resources are, some of the plants help you, others could kill you or cause you to suffer. But more than that I see him in front of a team of ten armed peacekeepers, alone, and I see the entire town encircling us, watching as they aim at him. A public execution isn't exactly uncommon, but when the person being executed is respected by the whole town, it's an event that could be dangerous. But they all just sit there and do nothing. Wanting to help the man whose saved a few of their lives, helped feed as many starving people as he possibly could or found ways to make things less painful for both the living and dying. But they know they can't afford to have another failed rebellion and just sit their watching as the bullets enter his flesh. I see him staring into my eyes, a smile on his face, as he breathes his final breath.


	2. Journey to the center of the capital

The thirteenth Hunger Games:

Chapter 2- Journey to the center of the Capital

I awake with a start, almost jumping off the couch, to see that I'm drenched in a concoction of sweat and tears. Looking up I see that I am not alone, which surprises me since I figured nobody had any interest in me. But Mayor Fletcher is staring at me; his eyes are red, indicating he's been crying. Which raises the question, how can a heartless person cry?

"Good evening, Mr. Mayor," I manage to get out; my voice doesn't hide the fact that I have little to no respect for him. I can guess what he wants to ask, "Don't let her die," is what he'll probably say, he might beg me, threaten me or break down crying in front of me.

"It's been a while, Paris, we haven't met since your father died," this stings a little bit because I recall eating dinner with his him before, my family was of the merchant class that exists in every district, the class that tends to the wealthy and is wealthy its self because they have unique skills and jobs that only they can do. My father was the town's healer, the two of us were the only residents of the district who were allowed to leave the district and search the areas away from the meadows for helpful plants. A privilege that I'm still given because I told them I'd train in order to replace him. In response to his statement, I nodded my head rather than saying any cruel things in response.

"You probably can guess why I'm here, can't you?" I nod, it's obvious that he'll beg me to save her, sacrifice myself if I need to in order to make sure she doesn't die, or even just to make an alliance with her. "I know asking you to lose for her, or to die for her, is a waste of time. I just want you to think about helping her and to not kill her yourself. I won't order you, I won't threaten you either. I just want you to understand that she may have her flaws but she only has them because of me and she doesn't deserve to die."

"I wouldn't be able to kill someone so defenseless anyway, I'm not that heartless. I'd worry about slate over myself though; I don't think he particularly likes your sheltered princess after the things she said to his neighbor," he looks at me with a guilty expression and then it hits me. "You already threatened him, didn't you? You can't threaten me, since I'm already supposed to kill the only person who I don't find annoying in the whole district, but he has four siblings that you could threaten," he looks at away from me and shrugs before turning to leave. He's a clever bastard, I'll give him that, acting like he's just another mourning father while he uses his power to try and secure his daughter a more favorable position.

Now I'll get some peace and quiet, which won't happen again after I leave to go to the capital. They treat tributes like their idols, everyone has their own favorite tribute who they may weep for after he/she dies, that is until the blood-shed continues and they get wrapped up in the suspense of watching the hunted hide from the hunters. It began in the third year when the first ever volunteer, who was from the second district, could wield a sword like he'd practiced for years. I'd guess he had, for two at least, eventually the tributes from the first, second and fourth districts began to outshine the other districts almost every year. Some could throw spears over forty yards, others knew how to wield knifes, and some excelled in various other skills. Skills the other districts lacked. From the third year until know, every victor has been from either the first, second or fourth district. The seventh and third districts both having a single win, the first year belonged to the boy from district seven, who must have grown up with axes since he killed roughly half the tributes by himself with that type of weapon alone. The girl from district three was just lucky that the other two remaining tributes dealt fatal wounds to each other; she didn't kill a single person the entire time.

I sigh to myself at the thought of having to face these "career tributes", a name that we started using after we noticed that almost every single tribute from their district was skilled to some degree with various weapons. I hear a creak at the front of the room and turn to see that I am not alone yet again. Although this time it's the tribute that I replaced, Pricilla Washington herself, the second oldest member of Slate's family. I motion for her to come closer, since she's surprisingly shy for her age, and she walks towards my couch. I notice that her eyes are still moist and red, meaning that she must have just finished visiting her brother

Don't worry," I say to her in as kind a voice as I can muster, "Your brother's too strong to be taken lightly in the games, he's too big for them to ignore, so there's no way he won't be noticed by the sponsors. This causes her to smile temporarily before the depressed look on her face returns. "I won't let him die," I say in a confident tone, although I have no idea where this is coming from. "He'll be the first victor from our district and you'll get to see him again. I promise," the guards come to tell her it's time to leave, which is funny since she spent less time than Mayor Fletcher in here and they didn't even bother him once.

I guess that having nobody to say goodbye to is both a blessing and a curse, well if you count the two who visited me I guess they were almost saying goodbye, even if they don't want me to come back. Eventually the peacekeepers come back in and lead me towards a car that's waiting to take the three of us to our train, which probably cost more money to construct than what anyone in my district, besides the wealthy, will see in their entire life. The three of us remain quiet; the other two must be suffering from the thought of having said their last good-byes to their friends and family. We don't see the crowd again; the rest of the district is probably celebrating the fact that the mayor's daughter was selected and not their own children.

The train itself could be from a different planet than my home, the materials seem nearly indestructible and the luxurious available to us are things that almost never find their way to district eleven. The windows are so clear, and probably indestructible, so we don't have any suicides. Last year, a boy from district twelve broke the window in his room and jumped out. I doubt he meant to kill himself, it was more of a failed escape attempt, but they said he was mentally disturbed on the news reports we saw. He didn't look disturbed to me; he seemed like a person who wanted to fight for his freedom, just not in the arena.

Our guide leads us into the dining room were food is piled high of multiple plates, it's filled with delicacies that only the mayor and his family may ever actually get, more food than the average district eleven families see in two weeks is in front of me. Animals I never knew existed are placed in front of me as well; some sort of fat bird is served next to a hot pan of gravy. Exotic fruits that couldn't naturally grow in my district, and fish, something I know of but have never seen before since the closest body of water isn't within walking distance, or even running distance. The pastries exceed those of the bakery that's frequented by people like the mayor and the peacekeepers, those who can afford luxuries while the majority of us barely get by.

Slate and I notice each-other, but we're hesitant to act friendly towards each other, so we return to the feast in front of us. But then it hits me, there's a third tribute in the group who hasn't made her way here yet, "where's the princess?" I ask Aqua, since she has to make sure we make to the arena alive so that we die for the cameras. They don't want any of us to die to easily know, that wouldn't be fun.

"She wasn't feeling well," she says while giving me an icy look, I may know why she's so icy, because she's probably talked to the mayor and his family before, and that would include his daughter.

"I was wondering," I say in as pleasant a voice as I can muster. "Since we don't have any champions in district eleven, is it up to you to get us sponsors, or do we get a fill in?" Slate looks at me after I say this; he probably never considered that we were at an even bigger disadvantage from the start than most people realize.

"They'll assign a temporary mentor to the three of you," she says coldly before getting up. "I'm going to check on Miss. Fletcher."

"Do you think I annoyed her?" I ask Slate with a grin on my face, he shakes his head at me, fighting the urge to smile back at me. "No need to treat me like a stranger, I already promised your sister I wouldn't kill you," I say this without thinking of the consequences, he stares at me coldly for a second, also unsure of what I meant by this.

"What if we're the final two, would you let me kill you?" his expression is cold and for a second I think he hates me.

"If the both of us last that long, I'll obviously fight for my life. But I won't kill you until the end, I don't even know if I could kill you if I had to. Besides, you're going to get more sponsors than anyone else, you're too big to be ignored you damn giant," he looks at me hesitantly, probably debating if whether or not I'm lying to him. "Don't forget that the careers have their own alliances and eventually end up killing each other in the end. I'm only proposing we do the same think."

"I wouldn't be able to catch you in the woods, anyway," he groans. He's got a point there, I'm a little bit too fast, nobody in the district can catch me when I run away and I have enough endurance to run for an hour straight. But how will I kill anyone by running away?

I get up and walk towards him, holding my hand out, "Partners?" I ask him.

He reaches out and shakes my hand, "I wouldn't want to kill you anyway, and you're one of the few people I can stand in the entire district, besides my family of course." We both dislike the cowardly members our district, those who stood by while the others fought for freedom. Those who even helped the capital overcome the rebels by reporting important information, and eventually informing on the few surviving rebels who weren't massacred.

"I'll sweeten the deal," I say with a smile. "If I return as the champion I'll make sure they get more food than they can eat," he rolls his eyes at me.

"I'll do the same thing for you," he gives me an evil smile as he says this, since he clearly knows that I have nobody to take care of at home.

"You better make sure my pet rat doesn't starve," my voice is so serious that it causes him to burst out laughing. "What kind of bird is that, anyway?" I ask him motioning to the remainders of our meals main course.

"A turkey, I think," he says eyeing it curiously. "It's delicious though, you should try it," just as I start piling more food onto my plate the princess and the snake return. It's obvious from the redness of her eyes that she's been crying.

I get up from the table and walk over to slate, "The mayor threatened your family, didn't he?" I whisper in his hear. He looks into my eyes his face full of hatred, probably to both the princess and the mayor. He nods softly before returning to his food. I then get up and walk over to the sheltered princess herself, "We both know that it's going to be difficult for you, but you won't be alone at least," I stick my hand out, even though I know I'll get infected by her slightest touch.

She slaps my hand, an aggravated expression on her face, "Like I'd need your help," her aggravated expression evolves into an angry one, "My dad had me trained like a career, so you'd just slow me down," she looks at Slate now, "You on the other hand would make a good partner," sheltered, huh? I think to myself. Where's the idiot who thought that she was defenseless?

Slate shrugs his shoulders before staring directly into her dark-green eyes, "we've already teamed up, so you'll need his permission to have an alliance with me," she looks back towards me, the angry look still on her face, and shakes my outstretched hand.

"Don't think I'll let you slow me down," she mutters, obviously intending only me to hear it, even though everyone in the room can hear her.

"You'll never match his running pace," Slate says without much emotion, "he'll end up waiting for us to catch up if we stay together the whole time."

"I don't want to stay together at all; it's a non-aggression pack, not a real alliance. I just don't want to have to deal with someone as big as you," she snaps back at him.

"Where did the scared little girl who fainted at the thought of being a sacrifice in the game go?" obviously, she plans to make people think she's too weak to be worth killing.

"You're tributes," the snake snaps back at me, the annoyance clearly showing on her face. "Please don't use such offensive terms," the emotion on her face had mostly subsided before she said this.

Does she not even realize what her role in the entire process is? That she's like a guard leading innocent, while most of us are innocent at least, children to their deaths? I figured any person with even an ounce of intelligence could understand that she holds an evil job title, earning one of the most sought after jobs in the capital couldn't have been easy either.

"So we've come to the agreement not to kill each other until the end, right?" it's better to make sure, although I don't trust her whatsoever. They both nod in agreement, returning to the food yet again, which has almost all been eaten by know. Mostly because Slate has eaten like half the turkey himself, I guess he can get away with it since he's like a foot taller than me and ways at least a hundred pounds more than me.

The meal continues without much talking and we return to our own individual quarters without any form of acknowledgment between the three of us, except for when slate and I nod at each other, the form of communication we use the most. Back in my room I sit down and turn on the television, viewing recaps of the grim reapers trip to each district. Districts one, two, and four all have at least one volunteer, the tribute from district four looks almost comparable to Slate in stature. He's an obvious career; both the boys from district two look impressive as well as the two girls from district two and the girl from district four. All in all, eight of the nine tributes from these three districts look well trained, the only outcast being the second boy from the fourth district. He could be trying for the same angle as Abigail, but I doubt it for some reason. From the other districts the most notable people are Slate and I, he's a giant so I already knew they wouldn't take him lightly, and I'm the first volunteer from the non-career districts, although the people giving feedback don't use that term. They call the career districts highly successful districts, but they can't count our district out of the race yet since we have a giant and someone who claims to be our districts only career.

The only other person who really sticks out is the girl from the third district, and it's not because she has an overly bulky appearance or because she seems over-confident, it's because of how radiant she is. Long flowing black blond hair, light blue eyes, and almost perfect features. Great, now I want to protect her too. I lay in my bed earlier than the others probably will, since sleeping is one of my two favorite hobbies, the other being doing absolutely nothing.

With a start I awaken at the knocking sound at my door, and the snake opens the door a crake to make sure I'm getting up. "Your mentor has decided to meet with the three of you now, be in the dining room within the next twenty minutes," her voice is a bit less icy than before, but for some reason she still detests me.

My shower takes about fifteen minutes, ten of which are spent thinking about my future, while the rest are actually used for cleaning my body. I throw on the nearest pieces of clothing that I can find before heading to the dining room to meet this important person who couldn't meet us yesterday for some reason.

The first thing I notice about him is that he isn't a victor from a different district, he appears pretty normal in stature and has a confident look on his face, his green eyes are almost cold in how utterly bored they seem to be. I sit down next to Slate, who looks like he's been up for a while since he's already cleared the plate in front of him off; I know this because it has lines of grease on the bottom of it. The princess herself isn't here yet, she'll be late, and I know for a fact that the time means nothing to her. I immediately focus my attention on the foods in front of me, the most interesting being a plate crispy and greasy strips that looks almost empty, which saddens me, but they replace it after the last two pieces are taken by my mentor.

"What's the name of that?" I ask Aqua, motioning towards the new plate of greasy strips.

"Bacon," my mentor responds before she can. "You better eat some of it now; otherwise the big guy will eat the whole thing himself." He pats Slate on the back after saying this with a smile on his face, obviously joking about it. I take about a quarter of the platter and plop it on my plate, then add some eggs, another food I haven't had in a while. I begin to stuff myself while we wait for the fifth member of our party; I finish my plate before she arrives fifteen minutes later.

The mentor stands up before speaking, "You're late," he's clearly annoyed with her. She just shrugs and motions towards her make up covered face. "You know that's a huge waste of time, or did you forget that they're going to redesign your look completely. Have you never seen any of the parades before?"

"I don't want to spend even a second looking as sloppy as the rest of my district, those two," she motions towards slate and I. "are barbarians compared to me and I won't lower myself to their level."

"Didn't you here?" I ask him, a grin on my face. "District eleven had its spoiled princess selected for the hunger games this year." She gives me a dirty look before sitting down and adding a bit of food to her plate.

"We only about have ten minutes until we arrive at the station and I wanted to get down your profiles before we made it to station. So you'll go last," he's looking straight at her as he says this. "We'll start with the giant. Any ideas?" why does he even bother asking? It's obvious that his main feature is how huge he is.

Before that," I say to him. "Shouldn't we do the basic introductions really quickly, mainly, I want to know who you are," and why they choose him, but I leave that part out. He shakes his head and points at his watch. "Fine," I mumble. "He's giant, he's intimidating and he could scare you with him monster sized head." I wink at Slate as I say this, knowing that he doesn't particularly care about what we're going to say about him.

"How about we talk about Paris next?" slate adds in quickly. "He has three important traits, his speed, his laziness and sarcastic attitude," he certainly knows my personality, I'll give him that, but he forgot about my endurance.

"One at a time," he grumbles to us. "Do you think you can pull of the intimidating tribute that is confident that they'll win?" he asks slate after thinking it over for a minute. Slate shakes his head in response. "Can you act humble, like your size is just an added bonus and that you plan to try your best even though you don't like your odds of winning?" this time Slate nods. "Okay, number two," he's obviously talking to me. "Did he nail all of your best traits?"

"Most of them were there, he just missed two, my knowledge of plants and my endurance," I say in a flat and even tone.

"So your lazy and a smart ass, huh?" he asks me, his voice not hiding the fact that he was already deep in thought about how my character should act. I nod in response to the question, even though it was rhetorical. After thinking for a moment it seems like he's come up with something, "You'll be the person who doesn't take anything seriously, the kid who doesn't have any interest in the games at all. But you have to do well enough in the training to earn any sponsors at all, can you manage that?" I nod my head, delighted that he's going to let me be myself.

By this point in time we almost have made it to the city, he eyes the princess quickly; "your profile is almost too east," I say to her before he gets a chance to speak, "You're district elevens sheltered princess, the girl who fainted at the reaping. Since you act like your better than the rest of us anyway, this shouldn't be a problem for you, right? You're the mayor's daughter as we'll" her look is like the sword she'll try to pierce me with in the arena.

The mentor thinks about it for a second before speaking, "That should work perfectly, the smart ass, the humble giant, and the sheltered princess. Perfect individual profiles for the three of you," he says cheerfully. I hear his voice, but I'm focusing on the city. The first buildings I can see are metallic and it's right on a major body of water. The city doesn't looked cramped since it's spread out enough to look more suburban than anything, but the massive buildings make it look more city-like. So it's somewhere in between the two, with every building looking as if they've delicately carved. Some of the buildings are about the size of the mayors, most are much bigger, and the biggest look to be at least a dozen stories tall.

I take a deep breath, remembering that I can't get excited about the city; I have to have little to no interest in the games at all. So this city can't impress me, nor can the bright colors of some of the buildings, some being colored red, blue, green, yellow, and every imaginable shade that I've never heard of, nor care enough to have an interest in. I stop myself again, I know I can't get interested in this, but it's fascinating, so I have to think calmly about it. I mentally brace myself for what's to come.


	3. Chapter 3

It's impossible to fully prepare yourself for the sites I see, but I am able to keep an unimpressed mask on my face. The crowd waiting for us is massive; a few thousand people are gathered in the area around the station, eagerly awaiting our arrival. The number of people isn't the only surprising thing, but the way they appear is what truly interests me. Some have obvious signs of surgeries used to alter their appearances; I see a pair of girls that look like dolls. In other words, they could easily be made out of plastic with how fake their appearance is. Another person must have had his entire skin transplanted, since he only wears a pair of shorts yet all the rest of his skin is covered in a dark blue fur that moves when the wind from the train blows into it. Some wear so much make-up that you might think you've never seen them before if they removed it all, and a few have their skin dyed in different colors. One is a shade of pink, another orange, and a third is red.

As I take this in I notice that the princess is standing at the window smiling at them and waving, although her expression makes it seem as if she's both anxious and scared. Slate's looking out into the crowd as well, his face has little emotion, but he's focusing a lot of attention onto them, as if their fellow tributes and he's studying how best to kill them. I'm the only one who doesn't make it obvious that I'm paying attention to them, they may have seen me while I peeked out from behind the wall for the few seconds I spent taking in their appearances. They cheer at us, wave back and even chant "District Eleven!" as we start to come to a stop, the tributes are minor celebrities, but the victors are major celebrities who live an easy live of signing autographs, visiting parties, and doing many other extravagant things.

When the train comes to a complete stop we're ushered out by our mentor and the snake, then we are separated as a different staff member asks each of us to follow him/her. They bring me to a room were three of the capital clowns are, one has light-green eyes and dark green hair, his clothing seems to be made of some sort of animal skin, and he has sharp and pointy teeth. The other two are both girls, one looks pretty normal except for the fact that she has a dozen piercings on each ear, and her lip and eye-brows are also pierced. The final girl looks similar to one of the dolls I saw outside, only she doesn't look like she's made of plastic, she's more like a perfected version of what they were trying to be. They quickly tell me to undress, hand me a robe, and lay on the table. The robe covers my body temporarily as I lay on my back; they undo it so it's beneath me as I lay on my back, leaving myself exposed to the three of them. It's not something I'm very comfortable with, but they don't seem to mind, it's like they're used to it.

The start hosing me down, the lack of time put into my hygiene is pretty evident and the looks on their faces show a bit of annoyance. After they spend about half an hour hosing down every inch of my skin, they begin to wax my chest.

"You're going to remove all my hair, aren't you?" I say out loud, allowing any of them to answer the question.

"Well of course," the piercings girl says. "Your chest alone has more hair than your head, it's not normal," for the capital at least. I like my body hair; it makes me feel more masculine. I know I'll miss it, but I can't really argue with them. After about twenty minutes of work, my entire stomach, chest, back, neck, face and almost every other part of my body is completely without hair.

"Can you leave my leg hair?" my voice is kind of miserable, so they give in to my request before washing my skin down once more and working on every little insignificant detail that the capital residents will notice, eventually they leave to go get my stylist, giving me the opportunity to inspect my body. Besides my legs, every inch of my body below the top of my neck in without hair, my eyebrows have been shaped in a more unnatural way and I still have my eye-lashes and the hair on the top of my head. It's a bit embarrassing, the fact that they shaved me in a few certain areas. The fact that two of them were attractive girls doesn't help

Roughly ten minutes later, my stylist walks into the room. She's older than the cleaning crew from earlier, I think at least; she is by far one of the most altered people I've seen here so far. She has large dog –like ears, and her eyes look like she's begging regardless of the rest of her faces positioning. Her nose is another thing, it's black in color and too small for her face, but the biggest and most obvious change is her heads shape. It must have been extremely costly and dangerous, but they flattened her head and pushed it out to make it look more dog-like, her mouth is bigger as well and it actually looks similar to a dogs somewhat. She has dog fur on her body, I assume they did some sort of transplant surgery for her, because it looks like it came fresh from a dogs body. I almost want to pet her, or call her a bitch at the very least, but I resist the urge.

She looks at me, a smile on her face, and for the first time I see that her tongue also must have been surgery lengthened since it's at least twice as big as it should be. "Hello, Paris," so it speaks, I think to myself. A rude thought, but I can't really help it. "My name's Caniness and I'll be your stylist," she looks at me and laughs. "I guess my appearance muse surprise you, right?" she must have understood why my expression was as blank as possible. "That doesn't surprise me, even other capital residents find me to be a bit different, so I've come to expect this reaction from people from the districts."

"Would you be offended is I asked you to shake hands or sit? I'll even give you a treat," she gives me a dirty look, before smiling in return. I burst out laughing; seeing that expression on a face that's so dog-like is just too funny.

"Okay, I get it," she says, still smiling. Let all your laughter out now so we can focus on what's to come," this throws me off a little, it wouldn't be surprising if she flipped out on me. The only other capital person I've met before wasn't exactly nice, and I just laughed at her appearance. I let it all out, laughing for at least five minutes, but I suddenly feel something else coming to the front of my mind.

The tears begin to form in my eyes, "resist it," I think to myself, but it doesn't work and they start pouring down my cheek. I let it all out, the loneliness I've tried to ignore, the fear of dying, the fact that I don't want to have to kill anyone, and the fact that returning won't improve my life at all. She looks at me as I start crying, she seems surprised at first, but she quickly changes her expression to that of understanding. I feel like a child again, as she pat's me on the back and strokes my hair. I see the scene in my mind, and quickly am able to fight back the tears, since it was similar to a puppy being taken care of by its mother. Mother, huh? That's a word I've never used on someone before. I look up; feeling a bit embarrassed, even more so now that I know it's probably evident on my face. "Sorry," I manage to get out.

"It's okay. I know this must be hard on you and I'm here to help you as much as possible," an ally, eh? "When you were selected and assigned to me, I began to think up of a few different designs. But I want to know what your personality in front of the crowd is going to be so I can choose one that fits you the best," I think I got lucky, my designer isn't one of the idiotic drones that sometimes get hired. The ones, who dress you in a skimpy outfit, like a coal miner without a shirt, or a fisherman covered by just his net. Those kinds of designers are the ones I'd like to avoid the most. I don't even know how my body looks in other people's eyes.

"I'm all about district pride and how interested I am in winning the games for district two," I say in mocking tone. She shakes her head at how obvious it is that this isn't my personality. "I'm lazy, sarcastic, I love nature, and I have very little interest in the hunger games at all," this time she thinks about my personality and how best to play it up for the crowd.

"I have to include something from your district, so the whole nature thing should be fine, but what about nature do you like? Do you like the peace and quiet, or the plants and animals, or anything else that comes to mind?"

This is a simple question for me, so I answer almost instantaneously, "I love medicinal plants the most, but I have a vast knowledge of most of them. I like how serene it is when I'm alone and could spend hours laying on my back and staring into the sky," it's true, when I'm not making sure I don't starve, I almost always dedicate my time to relaxing, I occasionally do few other things, but those aren't as important to me as thinking about random things is. My thoughts shift to different topics so often that you'd think that my brain was set to shuffle mode.

Medicinal plants, huh?" she mutters out loud, I don't think she wants me to respond so I remain quiet. "Do you even have those kinds of plants in your fields or anywhere else around district eleven?"

"I grow a few in my garden, the rest I have to gather in the surrounding forests and flatlands we don't grow plants in," she eyes me curiously, and I know why, it's illegal to leave the district without permission and getting permission is nearly impossible. "It's legal for me," I add quickly. "My dad was the town healer and I agreed to take him place when he died under the condition that I was allowed to search the forests from an early age so that I could train for the future," an okay future I guess, freedom is something that barely anyone else gets, so even an ounce of freedom is worth taking

"Oh, okay" she accepts my explanation without doubting me at all, I wasn't expecting that. "I don't have anything that can fit into every aspect of your character," I didn't expect she would, nobody has that much time. "I think I can focus on the medicinal plant and serenity aspects, but that's the best I can do," that's more than what I was expecting.

She leads me to a different room, after I put on the robe of course, I almost want to ask her where her collar is… but I resist the temptation, I know I can only get away with so many smart-ass remarks before she abandons my cause. The room she leads me to has several outfits; I don't really care for clothing very much, so I can't tell what will look better. Someone brings in a variety of plants, a few I recognize as the more valuable plants I've found. One has a variety of colors, sometimes being a dark purple color and sometimes almost brown and yellow depending on the season, it's leaves are nearer to the ground when you find it and the bright colors aren't the important part. They call it Chinese in the book my dad has, so I guess that's its name. It's helpful for blood loss and a variety of other painful things; it's the most valuable plant I've found because it sells for the most. The other one I recognize is called sun-bride; it has a yellow to deep orange color and is helpful in treating many of the lower level injuries that occur, like bug bites, scratches, and bruises. I grow this one in my garden at home, it's easy to sell since I grow a lot of it back home and can give out a lower price, most people come to my house when they need treatments, I can help apply them if I'm asked, and I usually do. Herbal tea always helps for sun-bride, unless you need to apply it on the skin, I make an ointment for those cases.

I pay little attention to the outfit she dresses me in, I barely even realize it's on before she starts sticking the plants to me, I think the outfit must have a sticky surface, because they stay on so easily. My bodies wrapped in the Chinese plant flowers, the roots aren't pretty enough to be of value on the costume, even though they are the important part of the plant. The only other one I recognize in the Aloe-Vera plant that helps with burns, sun-burns more than anything, it sells pretty well but only during the summer and harvest months. After I'm fully decorated in plants I realize that it looks like they've been tossed onto me, no complicated pattern, nothing except for a collage of plants.

The chariots are going to be arranged in a special manner," she talks to me as we walk towards the starting gate. "The chariots are only for two people, each district will have two chariots and one person will be by themselves," that sounds nice, I muse to myself. I hope they put me by myself, I'd rather not be next to the giant, and the princess might be annoying because of her act. "The order," she continues. "Will start with the first district having two people and the twelfth having one and it will continue in order from there in ascending order for having two people and descending order for having a person be by themselves.

I'd bet they spent months debating over what to do, whether they'd have a three person chariot, or have each district's two chariots go together. A problem like this probably earned someone a lot of money, or a lot of enemies who detest the idea. Little details are what matter in the hunger games, how pretty someone's dress was is of more importance than the way they were slaughtered in the arena. Of course their death is important, it will probably be replayed over and over, but in the long run the impression you make on the audience before entering the arena is more important than the actual fighting. This is almost always true, unless you last a while, die in an amazing way, or do anything else of note because you survive longer when you have the attention of the sponsors.

"Do I get to go alone," I ask almost pleadingly, she shakes her head at me. I'd bet they let Slate go alone; we would fit together, but not that comfortably. Not to mention they don't want him to block us out with all the attention he'll get. "Can I at least not be next to the spoiled princess?" she shakes her head again. I sigh out loud.

She continues leading me towards the chariots, all the tributes are covered in things from their districts, I wonder what would happen if they tied fish to the fourth district tribute and had them parade around like that. Maybe if the fish were alive and moving, it would be interesting, but the careers from that district would object to anything unbecoming to their glorious district. Instead of fish, they are dressed in skimpy sailor outfits, the boys at least. The girl is like a mermaid, beyond the tail-thing… I guess you could call it a flipper or something else, she only has an even smaller version of a bra on. It only covers the front and not the back, so she's as skimpy as possible, but I can't deny that killing her would be a bit sad.

I'm quickly brought into the chariot next to Abigail; we're in the second last group, next to the lone tribute from district two. He's staring in our direction, and I find out why when I turn to my right. The princess looks so frail in her little dress, the only thing from our district that she has is a few food items, mainly fruit and grains. She's certainly good-looking, but the innocent frail appearance makes her look like she needs to be protected. I see the longing look in the district two boy's face and I realize her act is much more effective than I expected. Shit, you can't count her out at all if the careers fall for her act. As the chariots begin to depart I can better see the other tributes appearances, the first group is two careers from the first district, one boy and one girl, and a frail boy from the twelfth district. The careers look in sync; they're both wearing togas and are covered in expensive jewels and diamonds, luxury items that their district doesn't make, but luxury items nonetheless. The boy is in some boring Miner outfit, he's ignored by the crowd and he's certainly made no impression at all.

The next group has the other two tributes from the second two districts, the boy is dressed in a skin-tight bodysuit and equipped with a saw that's layered in beautiful diamonds, not the kind of diamonds that anybody would use to cut a rock with, but the kind that could buy multiple homes in my district or feed the entire population. The girls outfit doesn't have anything to do with her districts job, other than the diamond brick in her grasp, but those aren't even used in brick-laying. Next to those two sits the most noticeable person I've seen so far, Slate is in a loin cloth and has a hat with fruit on top of it, I burst out laughing at the sight of this. Both the boy from two and the princess turn to look at me, but I ignore them.

I haven't laughed this much in years, it's almost as funny as all the dog jokes I've been stockpiling. He looks like he's annoyed as well, but I stop paying attention to his appearance almost instantaneously as the girl from the third district comes out. She's also lacking in clothes mostly, she's covered with wires that are wrapped around her chest, and from her thighs to her stomach. She looks so embarrassed that I can't laugh anymore. I focus on her assets that are visible; I bet a lot of sponsors are going to be going after her. I should look away, it's cruel not to, but one person looking away from her won't change the fact that everybody in the capital can see her.

I'm still thinking about her as I'm nudged by Abigail; I see that the group before us has already made it half-way down the runway. I don't pay attention to what they were dressed up in; it doesn't really matter to me except for entertainment purposes anyway. I'm surprised she made me focus, but then I realize I'd make her look bad if I had a dirty expression on my face as we traveled next to each other. The pervert and the innocent princess, that's a match made in hell. As our horse begins to move she makes she look even more nervous, more innocent, and almost bursts out into tears. I wonder if their fake or if she can actually make herself cry on cue.

The whole things annoying, really, why does she have to look like a spoiled brat next to me? I look to my right, the next chariots only a few feet away, and then I act without thinking. I climb to the edge of our chariot, get ready to jump, and spring onto the side of the second districts chariot. I catch the edge and pull myself in, it looks like I did it without any difficulty, but I'm a bit surprised that I made it. The horses certainly felt the impact of my jump, but they continue on as if nothing happened. I look up to the district two boy and shrug at him, he's still shooting me an annoyed yet baffled look.

"Wait a minute here," I almost say out loud, barely preventing myself from ruining the moment. What the hell did I just do, isn't it illegal to leave the chariot or something along those lines at least.

I pat the tribute from district two on the back and say to him, "that little act of hers was getting on my nerves." Before putting my bored expression back on my face and leaning against the edge of the chariot. He laughs at this, I guess he gets it. Nobody wants to be next to the cry-baby, especially when their supposed to kill that person.

We reach the end of the walk-way and most the tributes are looking at me, but I ignore them and call out to slate, "at least you'll be good with spears and other ancient weapons," he rolls his eyes at me and motions to my designated chariot, act's like he's going to jump, and then motions to my current chariot. I shrug my shoulders before bringing my hands to my face and rubbing my eyes, I then motion to the cry baby and smack myself on the head. He shakes his head at me.

The next group finishes and we're greeted by the ever so cheerful president of Panem, his scowl is aimed directly at us tributes, excluding the second districts tributes of course. He must still resent the fact that the districts ever had the balls to even think about fighting the capital, let alone the fact that his precious graphite mines are inoperable because of our actions. I think he's focusing on me now, "oh shit" I almost say out loud. He must have seen my little stunt as an act of rebellion, the crowd loved it, but he's more wary that the crowd.

Then comes the special part of his speech, "as you all know," his voice rises, not in an angry way, but it seems more powerful for some reason. That reason is probably technology. "The thirteenth district no longer exists because of their role in the rebellion. The thirteenth hunger games will serve as a reminder of the brave men and women who died while trying to suppress the rebellion in every district," and as a reminder that you could be next, that anybody who's foolish enough to fight against the capital will be punished for their actions. We get it, old man, or at least I get it, maybe the other tributes are too intimidated to be annoyed by his words.

He finishes his speech, the crowd cheers for him as if he's the condensed form of all the previous and future champions combined, they do love their champions. As we're lead into the building in at the end of the trail, I notice I'm getting some dirty looks, in response to my act I'd assume. I wonder if I impressed any sponsors with my agility, I hope so.

We walk towards our group of people, the mentor, guide, and the three stylists are all next to each other, the other two stylists are pretty normal looking so I get an idea, "Isn't there a leash law in the capital?" the other two stylists and the snake look at me, shocked at my joke. The mentor bursts out laughing while the Princess and Slate look at my stylist; she rolls her eyes at me, clearly unaffected by my shot at her.

"That was an interesting stunt you pulled," she says to me. I'm wondering if the other two were surprised that she could speak. I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to respond sarcastically with a remark like, "I didn't ask you to speak, I asked you to shake, no treat for you," or something along those lines.

"I told you not to put me next to the spoiled princess, I can't stand her at all," she just nods, understanding what I mean. The average capital person will feel sorry for her, but the ones with more than two brain cells will be able to see that it's an act, a good act, but an act nonetheless. The sponsors range from mindless idiots, to the most intelligent and p I ignore the stabbing looks the princess gives me and think about other things, I know I have to act like I don't have any interest in the games, but my interest level is starting to increase bit by bit as it goes on.

They lead us up to the eleventh floor of the building that will serve as both our living quarters and the training center which we'll need if we plan to survive, we're right below the penthouse, which is given to district twelfth, another poor district. Most are poor from what I know, the first and second being the richest and the fourth being in the middle, but life on a fishing boat doesn't sound that bad. Fishing seems boring though, I know some people love it, but I wouldn't be able to focus on fishing for more than five minutes at a time.

Having an entire floor dedicated to so few people seems like a waste, but I guess I can't complain that they're taking such good care of me. It's better than being locked in a cell until the games begin, prison food suck from what I've heard. The food here's good, a bit too luxurious for something that's going to be used to fuel my body, but in the capital, taste and appearance matter more than nutrition. Appearance especially, almost everything they do is give themselves a better appearance, some people probably have died trying to appear both unique and different.

The food in front of us is interesting, a stew containing lamb, peas, and a variety of other things. It looks like someone spent an hour organizing the appearance of it to make everything portioned perfectly, I cringe at the thought of someone sticking their hand into the stew and shifting things around. I doubt anyone actually did that, but it's not completely impossible. The eight of us sit at the table; the three stylists and the snake are in the middle of talking about some pointless aspect of their appearances, my stylist may be nice, but she's still from the capital. The princess and the giant aren't talking; the giant's to my left and she's to his left, to my right is the mentor.

We still don't know who he is or why he was selected to mentor us, I gather up the courage for a few minutes and finally blurt it out, "You never had the chance to tell us who you are, or even your name at the very least," he just shrugs, clearly not interested in giving us his name. "If one of survives we'll be stuck together for a while," I continue, "at least knowing your name would help make things easier."

"So you think one of you will survive, I doubt you think it's yourself, you don't have the confidence for that," he thinks about it for a while. "You must expect Slate to win, don't you?"

"Better him than a career tribute," I shrug while saying this, I could care less who wins, but I'd prefer Slate wins over anyone else. It would be nice if I was the victor, but I'm honestly not one for dreaming. If I win it'll be because nobody caught me and I surprised the last person, he'd/she'd probably be injured, maybe even on the verge on death. I could get lucky, I wouldn't be the first.

"Career tribute?" aqua asks me, not sure of what I mean. It is a term that I myself created; I think Slate may understand the term since I explained it to him two years ago.

"I'll assume you've noticed that the tributes from the first, second and fourth district are better prepared than the rest, and that they win almost every year," I can tell that they noticed it, but didn't really think about it in detail, I guess that even something so obvious can confuse the drones. "I assume they train for the hunger games, and that since it's more cheerful during the reaping in their districts than in mine, that some people make it into a sort of career," I don't word it very well, but they get the message.

"So you think they have an unfair advantage?" the venomous snake snaps at me.

"No, I think they've won the last ten hunger games in a row just by being lucky," she immediately detects the sarcasm in my voice; I can tell this because her eyes narrow even more, and the tattoos begin to sway, at least they do in my mind. It's like when a snake chases its prey, moving its body back and forth.

"That's not something someone who's not interested in the game would say," the mentor steps in, he probably prevented a massive argument between me and the snake. How boring.

"I can show interest in front of all of you, you aren't apart of the crowd, your our support," it's true though, why should I care if my supporters know it's partly an act? Even if the other two tributes from my district know, they can't actually do anything, slate knows my personality we'll enough and it's not like my character for the games is completely different from my normal character.

Everything's quiet for the next few minutes, there will be enough quiet once we're in the arena. "How about that introduction, Mr. Mentor," I get a few annoyed looks, it's obvious that they blame me for the awkward silence that I just broke.

"Do you think you can win?" he asks me yet again.

"I don't know if I want to win," I reply as honestly as possible, if I win then Slate will have died, that means I won't have anyone I care for in the entire district. The only thing that would make me care about returning in my promise, but even that's not enough. I'd bet they think I'm more pitiful than anything, having almost no will to live at all, but they don't say anything comforting. Which is a good thing; I don't want anyone to comfort me, to tell me that everything is going to be alright. I've accepted my fate already, I'll try like hell to escape it, but that's not going to happen.

The rest of our meal is uneventful, so after I finish I excuse myself and go to my room. I don't even look at any part of my room except the bed; sleep is the only thing on my mind. I almost dive under the covers after I strip down to just my undergarments, I could care less if the cameras see my body; they'll probably have to collect it in the arena anyway, it'll probably be bloodstained and broken by then. Nobody will cry at the sight though, if I'm the last member of my district alive they may get sad, the wining district gets gifts from the capital. I'll have a few fans from the district I guess, they'll probably want slate to win more than me, but want me to win more than the princess.

I wake up with a start; I don't even remember falling asleep. It must have been instantaneous. I guess I've been more active than normal, I haven't gotten as much exercise, but, I've been eating more. Eating and sleeping all day, I could get used to this lifestyle. It's the life style of a spoiled fighting dog being prepared for the biggest even of the year.

The shower feels good. They even have high quality versions of the cleaning products we at home, triple the price for a nice scent. Capital logic is certainly different from district logic in various stages. After spending at least thirty minutes in the shower I finally get out and dry myself of slowly and carefully, walking back into my room in just the towel, I let it fall off the second I'm by my bed. I go the closet and grab the first things I can find, although I make sure they won't make running more difficult or restrict me in any other way since today is the first training day. Maybe I can learn how to kill somebody without feeling any emotion at all today, or the location of every major organ and artery in the body. Survival skills would be more helpful for my strategy though, I'll never overpower the bigger guys, but if they can't find or catch me, they won't be able to kill.

When I walk out to the dining room I see only one other person, my mentor, he's reading a newspaper and nursing a cup of coffee. He must be a morning person, I am not. He's so focused on a particular article that he doesn't even notice me approaching him. "Morning," I mumble, too tired to attempt to scare or startle him.

"You're up early," he doesn't look at me, or act surprised, he must have noticed me coming but not mentioned anything.

"I went to sleep earlier than I usually do; any good news in the paper?" he laughed at me.

"I read this out of habit; I watched the news earlier, and yes, you were featured for your little stunt," I guess that doesn't surprise me, they could have arrested me if they really wanted to. I may be treated like a celebrity, but that doesn't change the fact that I was selected as a punishment to the district, all the corpses serve as a reminder than rebelling against the capital is like stabbing our own district-mates in the back. Unfortunately, at least one of us dies from each district dies from the knife our forefathers tried to use of the capital.

"Is it going to make less people want to sponsor me?" if I die, I want it to be as epic as possible, I don't care if is suffer as it goes. I want them to remember my name for years. That would be my dying wish than wouldn't it? That's a saddening thought in its own right.

"If you play your act well enough it will help you, if you don't it won't, it might even hinder you if you fail in the middle of it" it's not really an act, I'm changing a little, but calling it an act is a bit too much.

"Do the other two know your name already?" he nods at me, his expression his blank as he focuses on the new cup of coffee he poured for himself. "Am I still not worthy of knowing it or will you tell me?"

"Do you want to win, or will you die without fighting?"

"I never said I wouldn't fight, I only said I didn't know if winning is what's best for me," how do I explain it? Life is important, but living alone and without anyone to care for seems like a waste for the only living person out of the thirty-six tributes. I sound pathetic to myself; I bet a mind-reader would slit his wrist after hearing all of my pathetic thoughts, especially if he couldn't get away from me.

"I don't have a name, I was stripped of it as punishment," that's a bit odd, he's similar to an avox but he still has a tongue. Do avox's lose their names as punishment as well as their tongues? They are slaves, so they probably don't really have very many rights.

"I bet that's an interesting story, a sad one, but interesting nonetheless, right?" I know he must have an interesting identity, they wouldn't do something special to someone they deemed a traitor unless that had a very good reason for it. "You lied to me earlier when you told them me that they knew your name; they can't know something that doesn't exist.

"I meant that they knew that I didn't have a name; I didn't explain it in detail because I hadn't deemed you worthy of knowing even that little piece of information. If you have no will to live than I won't put any of what little time the four of us have together into, it would be a waste," that's a little mean, isn't it? Not even trying to get me to want to live.

I look at him; we're staring into each other's eyes "so what you're saying is that you don't have time to deal with a spoiled brat," he nods at me. I can't help but understand why he'd think that way.

"You're not prying? I thought you would ask, the giant didn't but Abigail did, she didn't get to have story time though," why would I try to ask him about something that I know he won't answer, I'm not stupid enough to waste my time doing something like that.

"I won't ask you to tell me about it, but I will ask you if you'll tell me if I impress the crowd even more?" I think I've found my interest in these games; background stories of interesting people are fascinating to me. It's another reason that drew me to slate. Most the townspeople are boring, or at the very least only slightly interesting, not enough to interest me though.

"I may give you a few details, but I'll only tell one of you the whole story and it would have to be after we have a victor," he's trying to make me want to win the games, I'd bet he came up with the idea during the conversation. I wondered why he wants to have a victor so bad, it's not like being a mentor and having other

I stop out conversation and focus on the food in front of me, more bacon, eggs done in multiple ways, some made into something called an omelet, they labeled a few of the foods they think we probably haven't had before. I also see a lot of berries and various other fruits such as apples, oranges, bananas and a few vegetables that I haven't seen before. I immediately dig into the bacon, grab an complete that's filed with tomatoes, cheese, bacon and ham, and load another plate with berries and various other food. I recognize all the berries, theirs blackberries, blueberries strawberries and raspberries. I've located a few berry bushes in the woods and flatlands, one was of raspberries, another was of blueberries, and the last was strawberries. Blackberries are one of the products that I've purchased from merchants in town.

I spend about thirty minutes slowly eating as much as I can before they come to replace the food with fresher versions of what we still had to eat. They throw out the other versions, even though they still were perfectly edible and not even cold yet. I move over to the couch after I finish eating and lay down, it's rather comfortable, much more so than the one in the room I stayed in before leaving to come here. Before I know it I allow myself to slowly slip into a state of semi-unconsciousness.

I'm sitting by myself, alone, and in the middle of some crowd less area. I'm alone, even more so now that I'm an orphan. It's cold and I don't want to go home, home is where they know of nothing except for obedience, being obedient enough to watch anyone they care about die. Even holding back others who want to help the people they care about, watching my father executed for caring about others, for taking his profession seriously.

He's better than them, maybe rebellious in comparison, so much so that they can't let him get away with his crime. It's not a serious crime, but he's given a punishment about two levels higher than the highest level it should earn him, a public execution. I see the head peacekeeper in front of me, he's smiling as he aims his gun at someone who tried to save a life.

"What is the point in saving lives," he must think to himself. It's much more exiting to end them, to know that the trigger you just pulled will bring about their end is a feeling that you can't describe. It's euphoric in nature, the ultimate high that no narcotic can bring; narcotics must be an artificial version of this to him. He is the biggest consumer of alcohol in the entire town; he must use the alcohol as a crutch to keep himself from snapping and going on a killing spree. He always hits his target; it's his moment, the moment when he is a master of life and death. He controls the fate of others, I've seen the expression he has after an execution, it's certainly not sorrowful. He aims the gun at me as I rush towards my father's side, but puts it away since he's already had enough pleasure for the day, he'll be in a great mood for the next few weeks. He smiles at me almost every time we see each other; he must replay the killing in his mind every time he sees me. Sometimes I see his face in my dreams, dreams of hatred, death, and boys being forced to watch their entire world smashed in front of them and live on knowing that thousands of people watched in happen without thinking about helping.

I see myself rush to my father's side; I'm covered in blood because I hug him the second I reach him. He's dead already, the smile's still on his face, but I can't see a bloodstained smile as the same thing as a regular smile. He's too frail in death, he was small and frail in life, but his broken body makes him look innocent. Like he's the child and I'm the morning father who watched him die, it's like it's my fault he died. I should have been there, why wasn't I there for him? What could possibly have been more important? Nothing that my imagination can invent is more important than being there to protect your only family member from death.

But I'm just a child, a bloodstained and red eyed child, but a child nonetheless. You can't blame a child for not being able to protect an adult, you can want to with every fiber of your being, but you simply can't. I snap from this flashback, I'm still alone in one of the abandoned neighborhoods in town. A neighborhood that held a few of the rebellion leader's strongholds, they say you shouldn't come here; they may have put dozens of traps up before they bombed the area. But it's quiet and secluded, until I hear the sound of someone punching a wall, only the wall is breaking from the impact.

I recognize the face, it's the eldest son of the two people my father tried to save even after being ordered and threatened to stay away from them. He's not crying; his eyes are full of hatred and rage. It's like the wall is the foundations of the capital and each punch of his is slowly making it crumble, his fist in both bloody and bruised, but he's ignoring the pain. Eventually he calms down enough to examine his hand, the bruising is pretty bad.

I feel bad for him, he's like me, only he's not crying about his lose. He's enraged about it, I walk towards him, not even thinking that I might startle him and hand him a vile of an anti-bruising paste I sell in town. He's startled, but he recognizes me. He looks at the vile curiously and I point to the vile than towards his hands.

"As he applies it he looks at me, thank you," he mumbles quietly, I nod my head and we both walk away. It's not the friendliest first meeting, but it's enough to see that we have a bond, a sad one, but it's still enough. I go home without tears in my eyes, I go home knowing that I myself will have to replace my father's place.


	4. Chapter 4

I return to consciousness I know that I was imagining it, but it's like my eyes are glued to a first-person movie on a screen, it's even worse when you actually remember those things. I could force myself awake, I've done it before, but it always makes me feel worse throughout the day when I do.

My eyes slowly take in my location, since I could have sworn that I had returned home and that I was in my mourning spot. I'm not. I look at the table; all four of the people who make up the rest of the core of district elevens representatives are there. Slates probably been there for a while, he's finishing up a plate of food; it's probably not his first. The princess looks like she's still fighting sleep, and it's like she's just barely beating him back.

The snake is eating a plate of dead mice, rats and rabbits, they're raw. My eyes must still be in a dreamlike state because I really thought she was. I imagined her swallowing them whole, one by one, having a giant lump in her throat because they move slowly through her body

I get up and join them at the table, nobody say's a word to me. The food still looks good, and I feel that my stomach could fit more into it, so I pick into a different omelet. This one has bacon, sausage, ham, and a few other types of meat. I down the whole thing and go for a different one, the omelets on this plate have green on top of them in a few places. I bite into them and see a few pieces of what look like mini-trees, only perfectly shaped trees, the kind that might be found in the capital but never the wild. A fungus that I haven't seen or eaten before is also in it along with some tomatoes. It's the polar opposite of the one I just ate in this regard, but it's still delicious.

Eventually we're told that we have twenty minutes until we have to leave for the training center, we'll be brought their by our mentor and the snake. They can't come into the center with us, but they'll still be able to watch from a glass window that's see through from only the other side. They could leave without us knowing it, but I honestly don't care if they watch me or not.

"Listen," The mentor breaks the silence after roughly half of our remaining free time has passed. "I have specific instructions for the three of you, well actually only two of you. Paris you can do whatever the hell you want, it doesn't matter what they think of you. The crowd is what matters to you. Abigail, you have to appear mediocre, so you should learn some new skills. Tie a knot, camouflage yourself, identify edible plants, or do anything else that will help you. You said you're similar to the better tributes, so avoid using any weapons that you excel with."

He takes a few second to think about Slate again, "it's your choice Slate, either intimidate them and make them want you to join the alliance that they have," the alliances are a new thing, for the past four years the career tributes have built alliances. They've been growing and growing as the years go on, the first was a three man alliance that dominated the competition. It will be huge this year, there are nine tributes form the primary career districts, so if slate joins that'll be a ten person alliance at most. That's dangerous for all of us.

"If you don't want to have an alliance with them, practice wielding a sword or a mace, you'll want to master a weapon anyway. If you want to join the alliance you'll need to impress them, understood?" Slate nods in response.

For the first time I feel nervous about entering that room. It's the first time we'll all be together in normal clothes, and we'll have to spend the next seven days together, a few days longer than before because they want to make sure the tributes this year are better prepared for the blood-shed, or so I think. The seven days thing was probably a last minute idea, an icing on the cake that will make this one of the most interesting hunger games ever. The first is probably the first on that list, since nobody knew what to expect, and since it was dominated by one person.

It's time to depart, so we're ushered to the elevator that leads to the bottom of the building, it's the second time I've been in one. The first time was here though, so I already know what to expect. As we approach the bottom I jump into the air, the feeling is weird since I'm pushing against the elevator as it goes down. I make a note to myself to try this again when we return to our floor.

We're not the first group, or the last, since only about half the sacrifices are here. The head trainer is some lady named Zenobia; it's similar to mine in that it has something to do with a famous warrior in history, or so she tells us.

The rules are simple, you have the free time to train however you want until you're called for your private station, and if you want a practice partner you can ask for one. Fighting between tributes is not allowed, and probably is illegal. They wouldn't want any corpses before the games begin, it wouldn't be memorable and it would be a pain to replace the corpse. They might have to execute the offender and get two new tributes instead. They're too busy advertising the games and exiting the crowd to want to deal with any extra problems. That's all she says, but there must be a few unspoken rules that only an idiot wouldn't think of.

Everyone has gathered by the end of her speech, only one group came while it was in session, the careers from district two. They looked bored, ignore the annoyed look she gave them they, wait for the speech to be over before rushing to whichever sharp and pointy weapon station they like the most.

I walk over to the plant stations, one is about identifying edible plants, and the other is useful plants you'll find in the woods, forest, and anywhere else. I recognize the sun-bride, Aloe-Vera, and Chinese plant immediately as well as most of the others. One is a medicine my dad used for scars and wrinkles, the wrinkles think he only did when he was pretty much forced. It's more of a luxurious plant anyway, although it helps with burns, scratches, and dry skin as well. The next is for infections, and tracker-jacker venom, it's so common that I rarely bother with it. Half the people in our district could find it without leaving the fields.

The ones that I don't recognize may not be helpful, so I ask the lady behind at the station. I've identified all but one of the helpful plants, according to her; the only other one is used for treating coughs, sour throats, and other sicknesses of that area. It also can help treat dry facial skin. A luxurious and unnecessary thing for me, but if I find it after returning home it might sell for a lot. I wouldn't find it at home though, it's only found in marshes and I've never seen a marsh before. I guess if I had seen one I wouldn't have known what it was, the same goes for swamps and the various other types of land district eleven doesn't have, the most extreme being an arctic tundra.

I snag a piece of the Chinese plant's root; I can turn it into a necklace and see if it can be my district token. The tokens were always allowed, most people don't bother with them unless they have a good-luck charm or a hidden weapon. A hidden medicine couldn't hurt, especially one that helps with large amounts of blood-loss. This station is my best, but I need to go to other places, I move to the edible plants section. You don't actually eat the plants unless you're confident, at the station at least, a few will die from eating poisonous plants during the actual games.

I recognize a few as edible; I pick up one, a berry I've never seen before, "Is this edible?" I ask the man behind the station.

He shakes his head, "That's night lock, it'll kill you in minutes," I drop it and look at a few others. A I recognize three as plants you're not supposed to touch, poison ivy, poison oak, and poison sumac, the plant's that'll leave you itching for days, if not weeks.

"What would you do if someone touched these?" I ask him, motioning towards the three.

"We have a hand washing station here for that reason," he says quickly, a bit surprised that I recognize these out of all the plants. "The kind that grows in nature can be prevented if you wash the oil off your skin within fifteen minutes," that makes sense. If the oil doesn't sink into the skin it wouldn't have a long term effect. I think that's why at least, I only know to avoid it, not how it works or how to treat it.0

Another half hour passes at this station and I move somewhere else, the fire starting station. I've made simple fires at home, the kind where you use matches and sticks, but all of these complicated methods are beyond the realms of my knowledge. Steel and flint-stone also work, but how the hell with I find either of the two, let alone both of them. The instructor explains that the wood from a few certain types of trees is best when you try to start a fire with friction, juniper, cottonwood, cedar; willow, aspen walnut, and cypress are the best, according to him at least. I practice spinning a stick into one of those types of wood, it takes me a half hour of constant spinning before I get a fire going, I quickly transfer some cloths into the fire and add a few more sticks. I've made a perfectly good fire.

The man at the station gives me an impressed look before explaining a few other complicated methods, one involves using a lens to focus sunlight onto something and use the sunlight to make a fire, another involves sliding a battery against a piece of wool until the wool is on fire, than transferring the burning wool to a fire pit. I'll probably never have any of those materials, but if I do at least I'll know how to use them to make a fire.

I decide to have a little fun with my remaining time before lunch, in run straight to the obstacle course, it's empty because almost nobody wants to look like an idiot after failing the course. I climb up the net at a rapid pace, not pausing at all, I swing across the bars without falling and make it the next obstacle, a giant ball falls behind me and quickly chases me as I run down the slanted walkway, it can't catch me though. I have absolute confidence in my running speed and endurance; I notice that the rest of the course is in a separate room where the people outside can't see what's happening. I climb up a rock wall; it takes me three tries to reach the top. I have some physical strength, but not enough to hold myself up for that long. The top leads to a something that you have to hold onto something as it slides you down to the bottom level, if you can't hold onto it you have to comb the ladder and try again. This is my favorite part; the feeling of sliding down it is almost unreal.

When I crash into the mat on the floor I see the finish line in front of me, I get up and sprint at full pace until I make it through. I don't know how this will help me survive, but it was pretty fun. My time is flashing on the screen in front of me; I also remember seeing one outside the entrance to the course. My time is higher than the rest; I see a picture of my face and a time of two seconds less than the boy from the fourth district. I thought nobody actually used this, so I didn't study the screen before, but I'm at the top and above nine other names on the screen. My time beats the third person by thirty three seconds.

I walk out of the ending room and see that I'm getting different looks from each group of people, than I think to myself that I've fucked up. I was supposed to appear uninterested, I wanted to be unimpressive so I could have an easier time, but I've ostracized myself at least a little bit by scoring the highest on the course. It's common sense for the careers to focus on the more dangerous adversaries at first. They can go after the weak prey later; they have fewer defenses than the better prey. Slate will be targeted first, or they might leave him alone, it depends on how they want to deal with their most dangerous enemy. I think they like to kill as many as they can at the beginning, it makes things quicker in the long run, but leaving two or three difficult opponents alive until the end could be dangerous for them.

I start to head towards the knife station, but I look at a clock and see that lunch starts in a few minutes, so I move towards one of the smaller tables and sit down. The sad part is that I'm not even tired at all; I may need to put more effort into the physical training to get exhausted.

Eight of the nine career district tributes sit together, the other one sits by him, he's smaller and much more fragile than the others. Almost the rest of the tributes sit alone, I thought they all might after almost everyone followed that pattern, but Slate came and sat next to me. They wheel the food into the room through the elevator, most of it is healthier foods, they pretty much designed it so that we would gain some body mass before entering the arena, for the boys at least. I'll have to avoid eating a lot; otherwise I'll become slower.

Now that I think about it, I realize that I've been eating a lot since I got here and not exercising at all. I make a note to myself to run until I can't run any more, like I used to do at the district. I had a very specific window of time for being able to search the forest, I trained my body to be able to run for at least three hours without stopping, gather for an hour, and run back. Or something along those lines, sometimes I was able to stay out for a full day. I learned the hard way that being late wasn't a good idea, the lashed me fifteen times and I was only ten minutes late. That was about half a year after my dad was executed, it took me a few weeks to gain the courage to ask the mayors permission to start training to replace my father. I did it the same day I saw Slate punching the wall. My father had already trained me to run since he himself was an excellent runner; he needed to be fast to collect the plants that are so far away from us that it's almost impossible to find them.

I look at the career table; at the head is the tribute from the fourth district, he's easily the most intimidating out of the group, while the majority of them look well trained; only one looks a bit average. He'll get a free pass anyway, his two district mates are at the table with him.

I nudge Slate; he's been tearing through plates of the food they brought. I see something called pasta; they label the plates so that we know something about it. I bet they laugh at the thought of the poor children of the higher districts and the fact that they don't know the names of even an eighth of the foods they have. "Have you learned anything yet?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "Sword practice is all," whenever he speaks I always notice how commanding his voice is, he'd do well as a commander in an army… say a rebel army, for example.

We go back to eating; he's stuffing himself while I'm barely eating. We're polar opposites though, so it shouldn't surprise me that he'd want to gain weight while I don't. We eventually finish eating and move back towards training, this time I start with an empty station called anatomy. The main point of this station is to know where to aim your weapon. The best places are organs, arteries, and any other major part of the body. The instructor here tells me about the "Achilles heel", an ancient story about the greatest warrior who died after being shot by a poisoned arrow that entered his heel and severed the Achilles tendon. She tells me this because cutting a weak point like the heel will ruin someone's leg in the arena, a tactic that could help a speedy combatant take out the bigger combatants.

This excites me and I make a personal note to come back here tomorrow, I still need to hit the knife training station and the knot tying station. I've decided to use my speediness as my second major weapon, along with the things I learn here and the things I already know, I think it may be my only chance of lasting at least to the final eight. I want them to send someone to the district and not be able to find anyone who knows a lot about me.

I leave this station and head over to the knot tying station; I practice as many basic knots as I can until we're signaled to go to dinner, meaning that the day is over.

I continue at this pace until the seventh day, and I realize that I've memorized pretty much all the critical hit points in the human body, can tie knots and traps semi-decently, and am good enough with a knife to not feel defenseless anymore. A few days I focused on running and agility training, the rest I dedicated to mastering the survival kills I'd need, I include combat as a survival skill because I'll be hunted while in the arena.

I doubt the careers took the time to master any new skills; they're already overconfident enough to believe that one of them will win regardless of the competition. I guess that statement may be true, the audience will find out if it is or not, I probably won't though.

They begin pulling people out for their individual training sessions, the one's we'll be scored on, after your session you get to go back to your room and relax, or do whatever the hell you want. As I walk over towards the exit I notice the score board for the obstacle course has me in second now, the second place person moved to first and beat me by five seconds. The third place person is still twenty four seconds behind me.

I walk through the hall way towards the end, towards the end of the hallway lie the gate and a few benches in case you went together with your district mates, or I assume that's the reason for it. They call my name through a speaker system and I walk through the gate right after it opens, I feel the wind on my back as it closes behind me, trapping me inside.

As I walk into this room I realize that it's a bit impressive. It's as big, if not bigger than, the floor in which my district is staying in. They have a wide array of things you can use to prove how deadly you are, but those aren't for me. I clear a circular path around the room, moving everything to the center; it takes me about six minutes to finish this. I stretch for the next four minutes, not caring if they get bored. It's their job to watch me, and I get like forty minutes anyway.

I begin running at a decent pace, not my fastest, but then I pick up speed until I'm almost at two-thirds of my fasters pace. Then I'm sprinting around the circle, it's tiring, but I keep this up. I could run at this pace until I passed out, I've fainted from overexerting myself before. While I'm running I notice that I've gained some of their attention, at first they ignored me because I was taking my time, but now they have no choice but to watch me sprint around the circle. I keep on running for at least half an hour, not pausing once. My chest tightens, but I could keep this up for hours.

The head game maker eventually calls out to me, "Thank you, you're dismissed," I nod my head and leave, going through the gate and entering the elevator, I guess I must have missed when the two of them returned, I noticed it for a few of the careers, but didn't pay any attention to them.

The elevator leads me to my floor and I immediately walk straight to my room, I need a shower to get the sweat off of me. I'll be dirty half the time in the arena, so it's not like I'll always have the option to clean myself off. I still have all of today and tomorrow to get into that mindset, since tomorrows the day of the interviews, and the day after tomorrow is when the killing begins.

After showering, I lay on my bed for what feels like a few seconds, only it's not. It's been about two and a half hours, meaning that it's dinner time and that our scores will be up within the next hour and a half. We'll have only one more attempt after this, the third attempt to impress the crowd is the interview; we each get a few minutes to answer questions with the capitals most famous interviewer, Julius Flickerman, the only person whose ever held the position.

I scurry to the dining room; everyone who's dealt with us is there, everyone important at least since all three of the preparation teams are absent. My stylists and the other two stylists are sitting next to each other and gossiping. I take my place next to slate again, not saying a word to any of them. I just focus all of my attention onto the food in front of me. It's the most luxurious meal they've served us yet. It's not our last supper yet, so I expect tomorrow to be even better, another pleasant thought, I guess. I hope they paint all of us sacrifices eating our last meal and it becomes extremely famous.

The tables completely divided, the snake and stylists are having a pointless conversation, while our mentors giving us advice, he's not specifically talking to me, Abigail, or Slate, but we can hear everything he's saying.

"What's the best way to stay warm in a Desert arena, if you can't light a fire and don't have anything besides your clothes to sleep in?" it's a good question, if we're thrown into a desert that is.

"I'd recommend you pray that you don't freeze to death on the first night, and find something warm on the second night. I've never been to a desert," It's common sense, but it's not bad advice.

I step in, "At the beginning, would you recommend that I go after the goods in the center, or would you recommend that the other two go?" the bloodbath at the beginning is something that has occurred every single year so far. It'll be even worse this year, having twenty-eight combatants and the team of eight careers being forced to go after the same thing is like giving all thirty-six of us an invitation to the biggest warzone in the game's history. It'll be unpleasant enough, I can guarantee that.

"You said that you're fast, right?" I nod in response. "If you think you can get something valuable without getting yourself killed, go for it, otherwise I'd recommend you get the hell away from the bloodbath. You lack physical strength, so fighting with the stronger opponents in the open is suicide for you," he's got a point there, I'll give him that.

"You may be confident in your fighting," he's speaking directly to Abigail as he says this, "but you should stay away from the bloodshed as well," she starts to disagree but he gives her a dangerous look that shuts her up right away, "you're trying to appear fragile to the crowd and other tributes, so going in and killing people in the beginning is just like announcing that it was an act. You'll lose the advantages you have almost instantaneously," she nods her head but I doubt she's convincing anyone, she'll probably go for it anyway.

"You're big and dangerous," It's obvious who he's talking to this time, the big guy himself, "You should definitely think about getting yourself some weapons and supplies, but don't stay there for too long, otherwise you'll be overwhelmed by sheer numbers," he knows about the eight careers sitting together at one table, I made sure to tell him.

"Remember," His voice rises a bit, and he's not looking at any one in particular, "Only one of you can win and the rest will die, but don't die because you stupidly rush into danger without thinking about it, or because you overestimate yourself," this part of the conversation attracts the attention of the capital drones, I still don't know if the mentor was born here or not, and they eye us curiously.

Slates the next to a question, "What kind of animals should we expect?" a good question, but a stupid one at the same time.

"If there's a forest there'll always be tracker-jackers, avoid them at all costs since even a few stings will leave you fucked up for days. Two years ago they had these mutated monkeys that killed three tributes and wounded at least three others," I remember those monkeys, the boy from district one, the girl from district two, and both from district four were ambushed by them when only four other tributes remained. They slaughtered the district four tributes and injured the other two, the boy from district one killed almost all of them by himself; he was a wild card because he wasn't very impressive with his stature but he could wield a sword with amazing skill.

Another tribute was killed by the monkey as well and I think one more was injured. The injured one was killed by a pair of tributes from the same district, they might have been from nine or ten, but I'm not quite sure. The careers were weakened, so they were attacked by the other two, and injured the boy from one as he killed both of them. He bled out as the girl from district one watched him, unable to kill or help him; they had a close relationship from the beginning. It was a very depressing year in the capable, but they loved her for not killing him and even trying to save him.

Sad stuff, but I doubt she even cared if he lived, just another career dancing in front of the camera like a trained monkey. He looked happy while he died though; I think he really did care for her.

Other than those, they've had jaguars, killer penguins in the frozen tundra event, but a lot of people froze to death in that one," I remember that year, the careers turned on each other after five of them remained while only one other tribute was still alive. I was a massacre, only the two remained after that and the non-career tribute was already injured. They released a few grizzly bears that had a particular taste for human flesh, the bears led them to each other, since both of them couldn't climb, and the career killed both the bears after they started devouring the other tribute.

"There also were grizzly bears that year; I've seen skunks that released something similar to a nerve gas, they had poisons snakes another year, the list goes on and on," in other words, expect the unexpected, or another cliché phrase about being prepared for anything and everything.

"Can we drink water from a swamp, or another place like that?" another good question, I'm glad I'm not at a table full of idiots

"It might work, iodine kills bacteria, but it won't help with the non-organic things that may or may not be in the water. They've poisoned the food and water before, so don't think that they're above doing the same thing twice," in guess he is semi-knowledgably, but a victor would have better tips.

Our game of Q and A goes on until it's time to watch our training scores, they ask about things I didn't thin about, and I assume I also asked things they didn't think of either. They start with the three from district one and continue until district twelve's three go, the careers generally score from the seven to eleven range, a seven being lower than what most score and very few reach the eleven mark. A twelve is the highest, but nobody scores a twelve. Regular tributes tend to go from three to seven, some get higher, I'd bet slate will get a nine and I'll get a six, Abigail will go for a three, four, or five, most likely. The lower the better for her, killing someone who can only get a four is child's-play for a career that can get a nine or ten.

The girl from district one gets an eight, the first boy gets an eight as well, but the second boy gets a nine. It continues from there, I'm expecting between eight and ten for the careers, but the smaller of the giants, the boy from four, gets an eleven. He's the second to ever get an eleven; the first was the first victor, that's not a good sign. The next important score is Abigail's; she gets a three, just like she wanted. Then it's my turn, I receive an eight. Almost everyone's congratulating me, Abigail being the exception, but I'm more interested in Slate's score. The number eleven flashes on the board and everyone's jumping up and cheering for him, besides his competition of course, I expected it. She's probably annoyed because she didn't want to have to deal with him in the first place, so seeing him get an eleven has got to be annoying for her.

I doubt anybody's watching the screen besides the two who weren't feeling very cheerful after seeing his score, until I see the mentors congratulating Slate, but eyeing the television carefully. The only impressive score that the twelfth district gets is a seven, making it a three way tie for the third highest score by a non-career. Only two scores were below a five, the second belonging to a twelve year old girl from district three, she'll serve her role as a part of the slaughter. It's unfortunate, but you can't expect anyone to sacrifice themselves for a child when they don't think they'll be able to win on their own anyway.

I'm still surprised that being fast is enough to earn an eight, but I'll take it since a good score was one of the requirements for my character to stand a chance at survival. After the programs over we're told by the mentor and snake that we'll have to practice for our individual interviews tomorrow, we have from ten till ten to practice and be prepared for our interview, between two and four hours with each of the groups. Of course the other stylists won't help us, but they don't want us to spend time together, it's a nice gesture considering that after tomorrow we're enemies as soon as the non-aggression pact is over-with.

We're told to go to bed early because tomorrow is going to be a "big, big day!" as the snake says it, she's gotten less hateful as times gone on, I guess that's because I've stopped noticing her almost completely. Her role is pretty much that of a guide, the mentors the one who can make deals with sponsors, and use the money they give us to buy things we need.

I leave to go to my room, I fall asleep almost instantaneously, and I'm awoken after what felt like only a few minutes of sleep. They tell me I have an hour to get ready for my first part of the day, I start with the mentor, get prepped for the interview, have my one on one time with the snake, and finally get dressed after we leave for the interview, they like to dress us at the sight to make sure nobody sees our outfits before we're ready to go on stage. I'm going to be forth to last, which isn't a very promising position.

After I'm informed of all these things, I hop in the shower; spending roughly a half-hour sleeping by leaning against the wall, when I wake up I finish showering quickly, get dressed and head to the dining table. I'm the second last to make it to the table, about two minutes later the princess shows up, she spent the time making it so that she looked dressed up again, which means that she wasted her time yet again. They're going to take their time making sure your body looks good enough to fit the outfit they'll put you in anyway.

I have twenty minutes to eat breakfast, so I take my time gorging myself until everybody splits up, Slate's going to his prep team first, while the princess deals with the snake first. They seem semi-close anyway, so I doubt either of them is annoyed by the first rotation.

The mentor leads me to his room, it's on the same floor as ours, but it's so much smaller that I'm a bit surprised. I thought the capital citizens took great care of their victors… but he isn't a victor, so he must be like dead-weight to them. The mighty capital, in all its glory, has no need for someone who can't serve as a symbol. It works both ways; the victors are able to escape from the poverty of their district, which gives the district some hope.

Hope is something that's rarely seen in most of the districts, I assume district one and two have it easier than the rest of us. I know for a fact, thanks to my dad, that the second district was the only one not to rebel, while the second makes luxury items for the capital. Meaning they are the wealthiest, I doubt everyone's living well, but the overall percentage is much higher than in the agricultural district. For the capital, victors have a celebrity-like role; they have their iconic moments that they'll always be reminded of. I know for a fact that they always replay the final moments of each of the hunger games before the new one, so if I win I'll be forced to watch myself slaughtering someone every year until I die.

He goes over my personal game plan, for both the actual hunger games, and for my interview. I'll act very uninterested at the interview, not that I particularly care about seeing Julius Flickerman, and at the games I'll have to hide and/or ambush any targets I have. If I think I can get something from the center at the beginning, than I should go for it, otherwise I better run the fuck away. Honestly, does he think that I haven't run the scenarios in my mind over and over again, that I don't want to live? I want to live. Just as much as everyone else does, maybe even more. If you die alone, yes less people suffer, but I don't want to die without fulfilling my life at least somewhat. That's why I'll fight, I'll die, but that's life.

I sigh to myself, I'm getting melodramatic and it depresses me. I'm calm, focused, and above all, I never lose to my emotions anymore. I'm relaxed, lazy, and uninterested. He can't tell that I almost broke down, but I guess I'm not as stable as I thought I was.


End file.
